Twenty Four
by Account Out of Use
Summary: [RENT] Highlights, both good and bad, of Mark and Roger's friendship throughout the years.


Disclaimer: I own nothing here except the plot.

**Twenty Four**

Twenty four, coming straight on from twenty three, and Mark wonders if it's supposed to be feeling different yet, but only vaguely, through the haze of sleep. He realizes that he's on the couch as his eyes open slowly, and that the loft is a hazardous mess, and he's still dressed in the same stupid t-shirt and jeans, with Roger's leather jacket thrown over him like a blanket and his ratty scarf wrapped around his neck and winding down one arm. It's not until he sits up and hears a harsh, deep female laugh from the kitchen that he really remembers that yesterday was his birthday.

Twenty four going on twenty one, remembering Roger teasing him about being the youngest. This was the 'good old days', before AIDS, before Benny left, before relationships got muddled- even before Maureen and April! It was Mark, Roger, Collins and Benny, a tight quartet. Collins, twenty six then and the oldest of their group, not to mention ever the deep one. Benny, twenty four and happy to have blown off medical school before he was deep into it, even if it meant blowing off his rich parents too. And Roger, Roger had been twenty one then, just two months older than Mark, teasing him liberally about that. Roger, the was he was before drugs and AIDS and sex drew him in: Laughing, and full of life, deeply connected to the music in every way, tall and good looking, never able to hold a grudge, atheist who questioned spirituality more often that the philosophical, still undecided Collins. Roger. Then came Maureen, a bright eyed twenty year old the day she moved in, and with her came April, who was a year older than Roger. Roger didn't tease Mark like that anymore.

Twenty four going on forty nine, as it felt far too often for comfort for a while. Roger and Mark, bickering like an old married couple. Mark at the table with giant cups of coffee, a calculator, bills and letters demanding rent, complaining that with his films not selling and getting fired from Starbucks for trying to lecture innocent teenage girls on the evils of conformity, Roger

never leaving the house and the band gone, they had no money. Roger going through withdrawal, not speaking except to ask for something or whine or pick a fight or occasionally cuss Mark out, staring out the windows and daydreaming about fast cars pretty young girls brooding musicians with hearts of gold in a twenty three year old midlife crisis, forgetting Halloween and Christmas, don't think about remembering to tease Mark on his twenty third birthday, _happy birthday baby boy_.

Twenty four going on eighteen, and sometimes it was hard to remember just how they met, because it seemed they'd been friends forever, since they were born and in every life before that, not that either believed in past lives, unless you caught Roger on a particularly spiritual day. But they did meet in this life, if there were any others, and though they'd like to romanticize it and swear they were best friends from the start, the truth would be that they barely knew each other's names at first, the guy only taking voice lessons at his parent's insistence and what a waste, and the guy sneaking into the cheap voice classes at the community center and what was that about they all wanted to know. But when the boy with the camera almost glued to him, the old homemade scarf and the brilliant hidden eyes meets the boy with a guitar case fastened to his hip, a bad boy attitude and a heartwarming smile first noticed each other long enough for Camera Boy to swear the other _was_ in this voice class, honest and Guitar Boy to give the guy that beat the other up regularly a glare intense enough to send the biggest bully scampering off, they were the best of friends.

Twenty four going on twenty three, and Mark set his camera gently on the tripod. The clock flashed at him- '8:00'. He started his narration- _We begin on Christmas eve_- when Roger looked up from the TV and smirked. His comment, dripping with amusement: _You've said that thirty nine times tonight._ Mark picked his camera up, stuck his tongue out at his housebound roommate, and entered his room. Thirty nine times in one day, attempting to start his documentary. Phones had rung, Roger had interrupted him countless times, the power flickered once or twice. Constant interruptions. His face buried in a pillow, he considered, as he drifted off to sleep, giving it up. When he woke up at 8:50 to an odd noise, he realized that was not an option. Especially when the noise came again, and he left his room to find the source- Roger, attempting to tune the guitar he hadn't touched in a year. No words were spoken, but Roger motioned to the tripod and Mark set up, smiling as he did so, and when he said the words for the fortieth time, the last scripted speech he'd make for the next year filming- _We begin on Christmas Eve-_ something magic sparked through him, and as he glanced at the blinking clock (8:58), he knew he wouldn't be needing to reshoot.

Twenty four going on nineteen, two best friends stepping into the big city to live their lives. They wanted, even then, to be what they still wanted to be: Roger a songwriter/singer, Mark a film maker. No false hopes, they knew what they were getting into, even then. But in their eyes, being poor and working at some dumb job to keep yourself sheltered while working towards your dream was way better than doing something you hated for security. So they decided they'd do what they wanted to do with their lives, not knowing what the decision would lead to.

Twenty four staying on twenty four, and that was how Mark liked it best, RogerAndMark now, best of friends as always, so tight Mimi got jealous at times and no one could break the bond that cemented in the rest of the group. Sitting at the kitchen table, one writing lyrics or fiddling with his guitar and the other writing screenplays or filming anything and everything but his roommate, sneaking out to the Cat Scratch Club just to see whether or not Mimi reacted when she saw her boyfriend watching her dance, Mark singing along to old musical cast recordings and jokingly paying Roger back for the good-natured teasing by sitting on his lap in the middle of the Life Café and singing random love songs, just sitting on the fire escape or the roof and watching the sun setting or rising or the stars twinkling, talking like there was truly _no day but today_ and everything needed to be said now. Things were okay for now and there was no need in thinking ahead when it was, just live in the moment and be happy you've got your friend now.

After all...

No day but today.


End file.
